


Out of the Cold of Space

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: Talon just has the more interesting characters, Sigma not least among them. But Sigma is unique for his perspective, informed as it is by the universe itself.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Out of the Cold of Space

The icicle rested in her hands, a glittering piece of perfect crystal. It was perfect, in her eyes: thick enough to catch the light, to refract it in delicate rainbows, and to shine at the edges like fine sterling silver. It threw back memories, images of a delicate crystal tiara and an exquisite diamond necklace resting on dark black velvet. She knew that, technically, she was supposed to have emotions attached to these memories, something deep and powerful that tugged at her very soul. But when she reached down, when she focused on the crystal and looked for the voices and faces that connected her to a previous life, she dredged her very depths and found…nothing.

She had worked very hard to get back those voices and faces. The names, too, were important. And even after all that, she didn’t have anything to _feel_ about them. She had been someone with the name ‘Amelie’, married to a man named ‘Gerard’, and the diamonds had been part of his gifts. Oh, he had loved giving his gifts, and he was rich enough and tasteful enough to find her only the best. But that had been years ago, years and years ago, and now those diamonds and crystals were gone and she was left with this icicle. There were others, hanging off the banister rail, but she’d only plucked off one. It didn’t even melt as she held it: her hands were too cold now, her skin a mottled blue. She was _inhuman_.

Behind her, a loud thud made her look up slowly, the slamming of doors and sliding of screens following soon after. Widowmaker looked over her shoulder to watch another woman emerge from the suite they’d been given, hair standing up in a fox’s tail and eyes weary with exhaustion.

“He’s still refusing to accept that things won’t stick to the ceiling.”

“You’re fighting a losing battle.”

“I am not a _babysitter_ , I am a geneticist with publications ranging into the hundreds, and I will _not_ waste my time hunting down an insane former physicist.”

“Moira, forgive me, but I have very little sympathy for your plight.”

Moira scowled, slinking forward to approach the banister. “Just because you’re afforded the luxuries of the elite, it doesn’t mean you get to ignore our work. You’re part of this circus, like it or not.”

“When you’re part of the team that _forced_ me into this ‘circus’, you do not get to lecture me on my responsibilities.” Widowmaker stood slowly, drawing herself up to her full height to fully impress Moira with her presence. Moira scowled even deeper, ready to retort, but another slam from inside the rooms made both women glance back at the doors again. Stumbling and scruffy, eyes wild from some unknown energy, a taller man gripped the doorframe, blinking rapidly.

“Sigma—” Moira began, cut off as Sigma stumbled forward.

“The stars are just as bright, _just_ as bright.” Sigma nodded eagerly, eyes roving over the icicles. “Very bright, out here.”

“Sigma, go back inside.” Moira chided, her voice an unusual tone. Sigma simply shook his head, crouching to study the ice in more detail.

“We are all universes, you know. Not really, not truly, not in the cosmic sense like we should be, but there are networks even there. Small, and intricate, and delicate.”

“Sigma—”

“ _Moira_. Could you, for once, just leave it alone.” Widowmaker gestured imperiously for the door, and was impressed to find that, this time, Moira did. Moira slunk back like a whipped cocker spaniel, ducking back into the darkness of the suite to leave the other two Talon operatives alone in the chill.

“Sigma.”

The man on the ground shrugged, distracted by the remaining lights still twinkling in the ice. Widowmaker watched him, intrigued by the figure she’s so often seen but rarely addressed. He was a _madman_ —at least, that was the diagnosis. Moira had been handling him, guiding him, and he listened to her most of the time, but on his own…Widowmaker crouched to join him, pleased to have something else to absorb her thoughts. Better his problems than hers.

“We are universes?”

Sigma shrugged again. “Living. Dying. Becoming reborn. Perhaps ‘galaxies’ is more appropriate.”

Widowmaker reached out to snap off another icicle, feeling it against her skin but still amazed by the way it refused to melt. “I have died, Sigma. What you see is a dead woman.”

“Dead? Mm. Perhaps.” Sigma nodded, stroking another icicle as if it were a cat.

“Not yet reborn.”

“Not every galaxy returns immediately.”

Widowmaker sat back, trying to ignore the heartbeat that thudded in her chest. (It did still beat, whatever the Talon grunts believed.) Most of the others, when she’d said something, ignored her. Reaper tried to counter with his own problems, while Moira would launch into another rant about her work. Sigma might be mad, but at least he bothered to listen.

“Somehow I am so small. One woman. And yet inside me it seems like there is a chasm, never ending, never resting, just…consuming. My life has been eaten up by this other _thing_ inside me.”

“Someday this too will end. The sun itself will eat itself. Can you imagine? A huge explosion, billowing outward with its own death throes, and the entire solar system will be painted with rainbow flares!” Sigma snapped off an icicle, tossing it to the sidewalk below to watch it shatter into pieces. “Nothing lasts. Our problems are a speck in the universe.”

Widowmaker shivered, though she so rarely felt the cold. “You believe that.”

“I’ve _seen_ it, seen it with my own eyes! I am no fanatic, I take nothing on faith, but the universe has pried me open and poured in the sights, all the starlight and nebulae and vortices. Stars are constantly consuming each other, can you imagine? Their own gravity weighs them down and sucks them in, until they riot hard enough to recoil again with their own nuclear explosions!” Sigma grinned wildly, glancing to Widowmaker with renewed frenzy. “Of course you’re dying! We are all, always, dying!”

“You’re not necessarily helping.”

“Helping?” Confusion suddenly clouded Sigma’s expression, his euphoria dampened. “I…don’t know what was helping.”

“It’s fine.” Widowmaker reached out, stroking Sigma’s chin. And even now, even after her years and the distance and her _cold_ , she could still make a man pay attention to her. Sigma paused, focusing on her eyes, and Widowmaker tried to hold the eye contact as long as possible before tearing away.

“I just do not _understand_ what I am meant to do. I take the orders because I have no choice. And yet I can still _think_ , can I not, I can still imagine, and I can still remember Gerard.” Yes: that much, she always remembered. “And even with all that, I cannot do anything with it. I cannot even feel sorry for myself, because there is nothing left to feel with. The, ah, the pieces have all been burned out.”

“Everything is changing.” Sigma shrugged, flopping back suddenly to sprawl against the tiny patio. “Always! You are not exempt.”

“I am subject to the same rules as the rest of the universe.”

“To imagine that change is the, that it’s—to think about it, and imagine that we are not the same, it’s ludicrous! Change is our constant, change is the only constant. We should not be surprised by the reality of change, only surprised by our inability to react to it.” Sigma shuffled backwards, reaching again for the doorframe to haul himself upwards. “Change. There is always a way to change.”

“You are far too optimistic for a man who’s bathed in chaos.” Widowmaker stood to follow him, beckoning him inside before closing and latching the outside doors.

“Ah, still always poetic. You still possess that, don’t you?” Sigma hummed loudly to himself, reaching for the walls in an odd, dreamlike movement as he stared into the darkness. “You are beautiful.”

“Oh.” Widowmaker watched him, unsure of how the compliment—if it was a compliment—should be taken. He was not like most men, even if he was just as easily distracted. “Ah. Thank you?”

“Everything is beautiful. Cells and planets and stars. You, um, express yours. You contain yours like a bottle, see-through glass.” Sigma nodded, slumping against the wall as Moira reappeared in the doorway to the bedrooms. “Doctor O’Deorain!”

“Did you two have a nice chat?” Moira kept her arms folded, trying to appear stern. “Freezing to death and liable to fly off the handle at any moment.”

“You know better than that.” Widowmaker tutted. “I cannot freeze, and Sigma is more in control than you’d admit.”

“Speaking of which—” Moira beckoned to Sigma, reaching out to take his arm. “—We all need a little less excitement. Big days ahead.”

“Oh, yes. We need all the rest we can get.” Widowmaker waved them away, watching Moira adjust Sigma’s posture and walk him back to the bedrooms. They were an odd pair, the two of them. Giants in their fields, perhaps, in a better world. Doctor O’Deorain and Doctor de Kuiper—and yet here they were, broken by Talon and reduced to shacking up in borrowed suites.

Well, she wasn’t one to talk. Whoever she was before, it was a far cry from this current state of things. Even so, it wasn’t entirely _terrible_. Perhaps there was a way forward, after all.


End file.
